


Once Upon a Time

by IneffableToreshi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Big Bad Wolf - Freeform, Biting, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Parody, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Red Riding Hood Elements, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 22:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: Aziraphale takes the role of Red Riding Hood and is seduced by the big bad wolf, Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 313





	Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> I originally attempted to write this little one-shot for Halloween, but unfortunately I couldn't get it finished fast enough. I hope you'll enjoy it none-the-less. ^_~  
If you enjoy my writing, please check out my other stuff by browsing my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com!
> 
> (Also, your comment sustain my soul, so please let me know what you think!)

Once upon a time, there was an angel named Aziraphale. 

The angel was a sweet young man, whose only wish in life was to do for others, to spread joy and happiness wherever he went. He lived in a small village at the edge of the forest, and was well-known for his kindness and ethereal beauty. Though the villagers did not know that their lovely neighbour was truly a being of Heaven, they couldn't help thinking of him as such because he shone like the sun. 

The angel would travel the village with a beatific smile on his face, cheeks rosy over porcelain skin, hair like a fluffy cloud curling atop his head. He would do favours, help the sick, calm frightened livestock, and perform any other number of what the village-folk quietly referred to as 'miracles'. But one of his favourite things to do was to walk door to door with baskets of treats he'd baked himself. Aziraphale was a great lover of food, you see, and sweets in particular. Some claimed he never slept, choosing instead to bake all through the night - cookies, cakes, and confectioneries of all kinds - before spending the following day going door to door, handing out little wrapped packages of goodies. 

It was on one such day in autumn that a sweet little girl, upon graciously accepting a present of warm, fresh cookies, happened to mention her grandmother. "I wonder if she would enjoy your treats, Mr Aziraphale," the sweetling thought aloud. "She always did love sweets. Perhaps I could take a walk to her cottage and bring her some of your wonderful baking."

The mention of a cottage worried the angel, as he knew there were no cottages anywhere within a reasonable walk to the village. "Where does your grandmother live, my dear?" he asked with a voice like church bells ringing on a clear, sunny day.

The child pointed, and the angel's fears were confirmed. "Deep in the woods," she told him. "To the East, about eight miles or so."

Aziraphale immediately handed her a second package of treats and praised her kindness. "But I'd be remiss if I encouraged you to traverse the forest, my child," he told her. "There are many dangers between the village and your grandmother's cottage and I shouldn't be comfortable knowing you are out there with my blessing." He placed a hand on the girl's head and gave her one of those smiles that made the villagers' hearts sing with happiness. "You bring those extra treats home to your mother now, okay? I will take the journey to your grandmother's house and give her your love along with a sampling of goodies. How does that sound?"

The girl's face lit up with joy and she nodded enthusiastically. "But wait here, just one moment, okay?" She ran off and returned a few minutes later carrying a long hood and cape of the most vibrant red. She handed it to the angel with a grin. "In case it gets cold before you're on your way back!"

Aziraphale's heart was warmed with the girl's thoughtfulness. Though he much preferred the muted tones of whites and creams for his clothing, he accepted the gift with grace and a radiant smile and immediately swung it about his shoulders. "I thank you and bid you adieu for now, lovely child. Fare-thee-well!"

The angel took his overstuffed basket, nodded his good-bye to the wonderful child, and headed east without a care in the world. 

He told the truth: there were many dangers in the forest and, as such, he couldn't condone a small child wandering in here alone. But the angel himself wasn't afraid. He knew that he walked with light and love and purpose and that nothing could harm him as long as he had faith. 

(Inconvenient discorporation, that was another thing entirely, but the dangers of the forest were hardly enough to be concerned with for someone who had once guarded the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden.)

That said, he couldn't deny that the darkness created by the looming trees that blocked out the sun's early-afternoon rays was more than a little...spooky.

He travelled at a pleasant pace at first. But as the afternoon wore on and the small bit of sun that did poke through the trees began to dissipate, his pace quickened. He wasn't nervous; he just...wanted to make sure he was able to get back to the village before nightfall. That's what he told himself, anyway, but by the time a wolf's howl rang out through the cooling forest air, the angel was practically running. 

Which explains how he found himself sprawling, with a yelp of alarm that echoed back the wolf's cry, over an exposed tree root that he would have sworn rose up from the earth to meet his foot. His basket of goodies went flying, and he became tangled in the red hood-and-cloak in his panic to get back to his feet and retain some of his battered dignity. 

"Bit of a tumble there, angel?" 

A second yelp escaped Aziraphale's lips before he could stop it. He rolled to the side and managed to leap to his feet only to almost fall back again as his breath was caught in his throat.

A stranger stood before him, a long, lithe figure dressed all in black with soft, silver fur wound stylishly around the hems of his sleeves and pants, and the deep, plunging v of his neckline. Long, blood-red hair fell in dramatic waves down to caress his shoulders and the pale, exposed skin of his throat and collar. A sharp shoulder propped the stranger against a tree, bare feet crossed at the ankle, and he held one of Aziraphale's cupcakes in long, thin fingers tipped with sharp nails that glinted silver in the mediocre light. 

The angel's breathless attention, however, was drawn to the stranger's face. It was thin and angular, and painstakingly beautiful. His lips curved into a sly, wicked smile that revealed the tips of sharp canine teeth, and his wide, leering eyes were a gorgeous gold that captured Aziraphale's attention and refused to relinquish it for even a second. 

It was only after the corner of the stranger's smile began to twitch and an eyebrow began to cock upward that Aziraphale found himself stuttering, red-faced, "S-sorry Sir, d-do I know you?"

The stranger's smirk was somehow equal parts pleasant and patronizing. "I sincerely doubt it, angel," he purred, low in his throat. "Your type doesn't mix with mine." He grinned, all teeth and snakelike sensuality. 

It made Aziraphale's entire body shiver. Which, in turn, made his cheeks grow redder and hotter. "W-what do you mean by that?" he demanded, though there was no bite to it. "And why do you keep calling me 'angel'?" His voice cracked a little on the last word. Aziraphale had never been a particularly good liar. 

The stranger's lips quirked again. With a graceful, slithering movement he pushed off of the tree and walked toward Aziraphale, slowly, sinuously, hips swaying far more than seemed fair to the angel's stammering heart-rate. 

He stopped a respectable distance away, but leaned forward suggestively to close the height difference between them so that they were eye-to-eye. "I call you that because it's what you are," he hissed, not unpleasantly. And then, with a sly grin he added, "_ I've been watching you… _"

In that moment a mix of fear and anger overpowered whatever spell the stranger was casting on the angel, spurring him to pull back several feet, hands raised, ready to fight if necessary. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, eyes narrowed.

The stranger simply straightened up (though that wasn't quite right, as the straightest he ever seemed to get was a kind of hippy slouch) and raised his eyebrows, terribly amused. "Just a wolf in sheep's clothing," he offered. Then, as Aziraphale watched in horror (and - though he'd never admit it - quite exceptional levels of arousal), the fiend flicked out a long, wet tongue and ran a stripe through the frosting of the cupcake in his hand. "Mmm…" he hummed after pulling the illicit tongue back into his mouth. "Not bad."

The angel sputtered for several long, embarrassing moments before he was able to pull himself together. "T-that...you!..." When words failed him he stood poker-straight, stomped over to his fallen basket, and rescued what he could while huffing indignantly the entire time. "I'll be taking my leave then," he announced without looking back at the stranger. When there was no response he stomped off through the trees. 

"Crowley."

Aziraphale hesitated, tilted his head back just far enough to see that the stranger was still watching him with a wide, lecherous grin. 

"Name's Crowley," he repeated. 

Entirely flustered and not totally certain why he was doing so, the angel responded, "Aziraphale," before turning and rushing along on his way.

For the remainder of the journey Aziraphale walked at a stiff pace, though now it was for a much different reason than anything so simple as fear. 

His heart was in his throat and hammering so hard that he was certain it was likely to choke him to death. 

Never in his millennia on Earth had Aziraphale ever had such a visceral reaction to any other being on the planet, to say nothing of his complete disinterest to any other angel he'd ever met in Heaven. It was extraordinarily disconcerting, to say the least. His chest felt tight, his flesh hot, his mind alight with a sudden tsunami of unbidden thoughts, forbidden concepts that had never occurred to him before once in all his existence.

"He must be some kind of sorcerer," the angel muttered to himself as he fought to control the frantic longing that was suddenly saturating his heart. "He must have cast some kind of spell while I was distracted. That's the only explanation…."

A short while later, feeling a little less hot and bothered but no less distracted by his own new and strange inner commentary, Aziraphale finally happened upon the lovely little cottage in the woods, right where the little girl had described it. It was a precious little home, all painted in whites and blues, and surrounded by a beautiful garden that made the angel's heart flutter again for more innocent reasons. 

"Oh my," he sighed to himself, stroking his fingertips along a particularly vibrant bloom of green. He leaned in to breathe in the almost-overwhelming scent of a bush of lilacs that was climbing up along the North wall. "This is just beautiful!" He couldn't resist wandering in a wide circle around the cottage to admire the lush, verdant flora that surrounded it at every angle. There were flowers of every shape, size, and shade, gloriously green leaves in every variety, and tall, snake-like vines that climbed-

Oh…'snake-like'. Aziraphale shuddered a little, remembering, before shaking himself and forcing his attention back to the plants. 

When he'd made his way around the entire garden, the angel took a deep breath, smoothed down the front of his clothes and the red cloak, and gave a brisk, sharp tap on the cottage door. 

There was a short pause, just long enough that Aziraphale was lifting his hand to knock again, when a high, lilting voice called out, "Come in!"

If Aziraphale had been a little more attentive, his mind a little less distracted by beautiful strangers and dazzling gardens, it might have occurred to him that the voice sounded just a bit off...like a male attempting to sound female, perhaps.

He walked into the little cottage slowly, careful not to get too much mud past the entrance while carefully slipping off his hiking boots. It was as lovely on the inside as it was without. Beautiful oak cupboards and a table designed for two, a vase of bright yellow daisies in the center of it. A doorway to the left revealed a living area covered in bookshelves, which most definitely sparked the angel's interest. To the right, however, and down a short hallway, the voice came to him again: "Down here, deary! I'm afraid I'm quite bedridden at the moment…"

"Oh you poor darling," Aziraphale called back as he began making his way down the hall with his basket of goodies. "I apologize for popping in on you like this, but you see your granddaughter made a request of me. I quite enjoy baking and-"

The angel stopped dead in his tracks just inside the bedroom door and dropped his basket in a combination of surprise and anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" he exclaimed. 

The 'wolf in sheep's clothing' was laying in the bed, stretched languorously, hands behind his head and propped up on several exceedingly soft-looking pillows. He was grinning ear-to-ear and looked far too pleased with himself. From this angle Aziraphale got an excellent indication of just how tight those black pants were and had to violently shake himself to force his gaze back to the fiend's face.

"How did you get here so fast?" the angel growled. "And what have you done with the old lady who lives here?" His gaze fell on something he hadn't noticed before, as it had been hidden by Crowley's long, fiery locks: a curling black snake sigil just above his ear. Aziraphale had seen sigils like that before, though rarely, since those who bore them tended to do their best to hide them. "You're a demon!" he cried. 

Crowley took his hands from behind his head and propped himself up on one elbow, curving in such a way that made him look that much more sleek and sinewy. The adjustment had Aziraphale gulping down a flush of heat. "Guilty as charged," Crowley admitted with a fang-tipped grin. "Well, about the demon part anyway. Can't have done anything to an old lady who doesn't exist." 

Aziraphale glared and frowned. "Pardon me?" 

The demon's grin couldn't have been melted off with holy water. "No old ladies here, angel," he explained plainly. "This is _ my _humble abode, and I happen to live all by my lonesome."

Aziraphale frowned and felt suddenly quite worried, thought he wasn't exactly certain which worry was bothering him the most, as there seemed to be quite a few of them floating around in his skull. "Wait, what? B-but...this is exactly where I was told to go. Is there another cottage around here somewhere?"

Crowley allowed himself a soft chuckle, which only served to make the angel bristle with indignation. "Allow me to save you the trouble of wracking your sweet little brain, angel," he purred, leaning forward so that Aziraphale could see a bit more skin peeking out from beneath that deliciously deep-dipped collar. "There is no grandmother. The child who sent you here did so at my behest." As the angel's jaw dropped, the demon quickly added, with a wave of his hand, "Don't worry, I made it worth her while. Her family's farm is going to be exceptionally fruitful this year." 

The addition soothed only a tiny percentage of Aziraphale's embarrassment. "B-but why?" he asked. He found himself taking a step backward, as though readying himself to run, but knew at the same time that he had no intention of doing so. In fact, he found himself wanting to draw closer, to join the demon on the soft bed draped in black sheets. He wanted to hook his fingers in that dipped collar, to pull the buttons of the shirt free and examine the smooth, pale skin beneath. He wanted to press his lips to that skin, to trail his tongue down, down toward-

Aziraphale gasped at himself, and made a horrible strangled noise. He fixed his gaze on the cocky demon's eyes and fought to steady the frantic beating in his chest that was threatening to topple him physically. "Stop that!" he shouted.

The demon had the audacity to look innocently confused. "Stop what?"

The angel bit his lip, hard, and took another step back. "Stop- stop whatever you're doing!" he cried. "You're...you've cast some kind of spell on me, I know it! You're- you're-" He flailed his hands about, unable to articulate what he wanted to. "You're _ radiating temptation! _"

Crowley's grin returned, even wider now so that his fangs glinted dangerously. "Perhaps," he admitted, "but I take offence to the accusation that I'm aiming it specifically at you, angel. This is just my normal, everyday level of allure." As he spoke he slowly slithered to the edge of the bed, then rose, moving forward one leisurely step at a time. "I've done absolutely nothing to you, angel, aside from introducing myself of course." He kept forward, leaning in, eyes bright and wide and mouth carefully enunciating every word. Aziraphale took a few more steps back, but couldn't keep his eyes off the demon's lips as he spoke, helplessly imagining those lips on his own, on his throat, his chest, his- 

The angel's back struck the wall, drawing a yelp of alarm. Almost insultingly slowly, Crowley lifted an arm to block the way to the doorway, and leaned in further so that their noses were practically touching. "I've wanted to meet you, you see," he hissed, low and pleasant, "I've been watching you, angel. I've seen you, flitting about the village, do-gooding and being ever...sssoo...sssweet." 

Aziraphale swallowed hard. The demon's tongue had flicked out a little as he drew the s-sound from his words. The angel's eyes were glued to the serpentine fork that split the pink muscle. It took an almost overwhelming level of willpower, but somehow he managed to lift his gaze to meet Crowley's eyes. That view, however, was hardly any less enticing. The amber was blown to all edges, and his pupils were dilated as he considered the angel. Aziraphale swallowed again and fought the urge to fan himself. 

"You know what I thought as I watched you?" the demon asked, and that forked tongue snaked out to swipe along his teeth while he awaited a response. 

Aziraphale wasn't certain he could put enough brainpower together to formulate one. Instead he settled for a quick, sharp, stuttering shake of the head while he struggled to keep breathing. 

Crowley cocked his head to the side, leaned forward so that his lips were closer to the angel's ear. His hot breath caressed Aziraphale's skin, sending shivers all throughout him that he was helpless to hide. "I thought," the demon whispered, "that sssuch a lovely, sssweet angel deserves a reward for being ssso diligent...and I noticed, as I watched, how you tend to linger and stare wissstfully at the cute young couples about the village. I noticed that look you get in your eye...the _ longing _ …" Long, delicate fingers rose to take Aziraphale's chin as Crowley's head turned again so that his lips were barely a breath away from the angel's. "Do you _ long _for sssomeone's touch, angel? Someone's desssire? Someone'sss devotion?"

Aziraphale had stopped breathing some time ago, though his heart steadfastly refused to stop thundering, insane and desperate, in his chest. Still, he tried to be strong, tried to fight back. "You must be doing something to me," he whimpered. "I'm an _ angel _ , for Heaven's sake! I don't- I don't feel _ lust! _"

At that clear lie Crowley's grin grew impossibly wide and sly. "Who said anything about lussst?" he breathed against the corner of the angel's lips.

And the angel knew his mistake as Crowley's mouth claimed his, firm and fierce and devouring. 

Aziraphale felt a moment of panic - this couldn't be happening! He couldn't let a demon defile him like this! - but in the second moment a heat and electricity filled his body and made his limbs tremble. He might have collapsed as his legs decided they could no longer support his weight, but then Crowley's hands were on his hips, holding him up, and the demon's long, lithe body was pressing him against the wall. Sharp, angled hips gyrated against the angel's soft body, pulling a moan from him that he couldn't possibly begin to deny. 

Crowley pulled back just far enough to run his forked tongue along the angel's lower lip. "Like that, don't you angel?" he growled low in his throat. He thrust forward again and chuckled, not unkindly, at the wanton groan he got in response. "Want more, don't you?" he breathed into Aziraphale's jawline. "Want to feel me on you, around you, touching every inch of you…"

Aziraphale whined and writhed beneath the demon. "I-" he gasped, stricken and defeated and desperate. "I d-do. God forgive me, I do!"

Crowley smirked against the angel's throat as he nibbled sharp little love-bites into the skin there to the chorus of Aziraphale's gasps. "Jussst what I wanted to hear…" he hummed. 

Aziraphale didn't even register that there'd been movement, but suddenly he was flat on his back on the bed and the demon was above him on hands and knees. He held both of the angel's wrists in one of his slender hands, and had them pinned up above Aziraphale's head. "I'm going to make you feel amazing," the demon hissed in a voice of the most delicious poison. "And you're going to take it all and be a good little angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale couldn't stop the whine that came out in response. Crowley's body was too far away with the demon propped the way he currently was. The angel's hips moved desperately forward, seeking the return of that contact. 

Crowley squeezed the fingers holding the angel's wrists. "Aren't you?" he repeated, a little more stern this time. He flashed his fangs again for good measure. 

Aziraphale felt a thrill of fear and desire shoot through him, filling him with a bone-deep heat that took all his inhibitions away. He nodded enthusiastically. "I will, I will," he assured the demon in a breathy, desperate voice. "Please, just..._ please! _"

The grin returned to Crowley's devilishly handsome face. "Good," he breathed, and then leaned down close so that his lips were fluttering above Aziraphale's without actually touching them. "Wrap your hands around the bars on the bed frame and do not move them," he ordered in a low, hot voice as he loosened his grip on the angel's wrists. 

Aziraphale didn't even consider refusing. The second Crowley's fingers had slackened he reached up and grabbed at the silver bars at the head of the bed. He gripped them like his life depended on it, so hard that his arms were shaking a little. 

Crowley's eyebrows rose, but he also looked incredibly pleased. "Good, angel," he praised. "Now, remember: you're not to move them. If you let go of those bars, I ssstop and you get nothing, understand?"

Aziraphale nodded, just a tiny motion, and as an afterthought he struggled to bring his wiggling hips under control. It was extraordinarily difficult - every atom of his body was crying out to touch the demon, to feel that sharp, angular body writhing against him - but he managed it, somehow, after a few painfully damning moments. 

Crowley looked surprised and impressed. "See, now, I _ knew _you were a sssweet, obedient little angel," he purred against Aziraphale's throat before biting down, just a tad too hard, and running his tongue against the mark he'd created. "Now let's see about that reward, shall we?"

Long fingers deftly undid the tie at the angel's neck, letting the edges of the red hood and cape drift down to the bed, surrounding Aziraphale like a pool of blood against the ichor black of the bed-sheets. The fingers went lower, popping one button after another until the soft white flesh of the angel's torso was revealed. It was slow and sensual and sent shivers all up and down Aziraphale's spine. Then, with a nasty grin, Crowley lifted his hands and snapped his fingers. A yelp was pulled from the angel as his pants and trousers vanished at once, revealing the extent of his arousal. 

"Sssweet little angel," the demon hissed, licking his lips. "Let'sss see how you tassste…"

The demon's mouth moved bit by bit down the angel's body, kissing here, licking there, sometimes nibbling, sometimes biting hard before licking up any blood that was drawn. Through it all Aziraphale fought to hold still, but made no such efforts to keep quiet. All manner of wonderful noises fell from the angel's lips as Crowley worpshipped and punished each inch of skin. The mixture of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, astoundingly wonderful, and the angel could no sooner deny it than he could pluck his own wings from his body.

When Crowley skipped by the most sensitive part of the angel to, instead, bite bruises into his plush thighs, Aziraphale's hips bucked frantically. The demon chuckled devilishly and wrapped his fingers around the angel's hips to hold him down to the bed. "Naughty naughty, angel," he growled through a grin. "Getting desssperate, are we?"

Aziraphale keened and continued to pulse his hips despite being unable to overcome the force of Crowley's grip. "Please," he whined. "I need...I _ need _…"

The demon's eyes dilated to the extreme. "Sssay it, angel," he hissed. "Tell the nasssty demon what you desssire…" His fingers tightened, nails digging possessively, painfully, into Aziraphale's hips. 

In direct opposition to the expansion of Crowley's eyes, the angel squeezed his eyes shut as if he couldn't bare to face what he was about to say. With a throaty little gasp he whimpered, "_ N-need to feel you inside me! _"

Crowley growled, eyes wide and desirous. "Your wisssh is my command, sssweet angel." In the next moment the demon was pressing a miraculously slick finger into Aziraphale whilst simultaneously wrapping his lips around the angel's throbbing cock. Aziraphale's gasp was a full-body thing that shook them both. Crowley hummed as he worked, delighting in the cries of pleasure from the angel's mouth. Deep down into his throat he swallowed Aziraphale greedily, whilst adding a second finger and pumping in and out with abandon. 

Aziraphale slammed his head against the bed and gripped the bars above his head so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. By the time Crowley had added a third finger and gulped him down to the hilt he was crying for it, hot tears streaking down his face. "Please, _ please! _ " he exclaimed as his lungs burned and his heart danced in his chest. "Need you! Need you _ now _!"

Crowley swallowed once more just to feel the angel shudder beneath him, and then pulled away with an obscenely wet pop. He made a show of licking his lips, slow and seductive. His fingers didn't stop moving; he curled them in order to hit the most tantalising spot, the spot that made the angel cry out again and again. "You sssure, angel?" he teased. "You ssseem to be enjoying yourssself like thisss…"

Aziraphale rocked his hips again. With Crowley's hands otherwise distracted, he was able to successfully rut against the demon's shoulder, and for some reason that unspectacular bit of contact drew a particularly salacious moan. "Yes, yes I'm sure, _ please _, need you now!"

Crowley responded by drawing his tongue in a long, wet line from the angel's belly up to his collar, before capturing his lips in a deep kiss in which that same tongue pushed down into the angel's throat. Aziraphale's chest swelled - not with air, as his ability to breathe was currently being cut off quite substantially - but with reckless want. _ Please, please, please, _his heart screamed as the demon's tongue pressed deep within him. 

_ Anything you want and everything you need, angel… _the demon's body responded.

In the space of a heartbeat the fingers were gone and before Aziraphale had time to lament their loss there was a snap to banish black clothing, and the talented fingers had been replaced by the demon's cock. Crowley pressed in slow at first, gulping down the groan from the angel's throat, savouring the taste of the desperation there. When he was fully sheathed within the angel's body he drew tongue from throat and nipped hard at his lower lip. "Ssstill with me, sssweet thing?" he breathed. 

Aziraphale clenched his hands around their bars and darted forward to steal a kiss - the first he'd initiated - before whispering an urgent, "_ Move _."

With a growl of approval, Crowley moved. Hips like a snake's writhing form, he undulated, pulling out, pressing in, a little harder each time, a little faster each time, angling himself to hit the most sensitive spot within Aziraphale's body with every thrust. He drew the gasps and moans and whimpers from the angel and swallowed down each greedily, every one only serving to strengthen his hunger for more. One hand wrapped around Aziraphale's throat, the other around the angel's cock, stroking in time with the motions of his own body. 

"C-crowley…" the angel cried, trembling, "Oh f-fuck, oh C-crowley!"

"Yesss, angel," the demon whispered back with hot breath against Aziraphale's ear. "Come apart for me… Fall to piecesss for me…"

As if waiting for the command, he did, spilling hot and sticky between their bodies. As the angel's body tensed and spasmed Crowley's thrusts stuttered, becoming erratic, and he followed, filling his angel as he ducked down to suck once more at the bite marks he'd created earlier. In the throes of passionate release they both collapsed, breaths coming in lingering gasps, bodies slick with sweat. 

After what might have been a minute or an hour, Crowley pushed himself up and gazed down, lovingly, into Aziraphale's eyes. "How was that, love?" he asked while running a gentle hand through snow-white curls. 

Aziraphale's eyes had fluttered closed, but his lips curled into a sly smile. "Mmmm…" he mumbled happily. "We should role-play every Halloween," he offered in response.

Crowley grinned, twisting a finger around one end of the tie from Aziraphale's discarded red hood. "Why wait until next Halloween?" he asked. "I've got _ sssso _ many more ideasss already…"

Aziraphale opened one eye to examine the demon's face. The other soon followed, and then his hands finally wound down from the bed-frame to wrap around his lover's gorgeous, fiendish face. He grinned in a positively un-angelic manner. 

"I'm listening."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fun little smut-piece!  
If you enjoy my writing, please check out my other stuff by browsing my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com!
> 
> (Also, your comment sustain my soul, so please let me know what you thought!)


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